


To Hell With Them

by chronicopheliac



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Introspection, M/M, Nostalgia under the influence, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Post-Season/Series 03, Salty recollections
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-14
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-07-23 23:34:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7484313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chronicopheliac/pseuds/chronicopheliac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Margot doesn't really care if Hannibal and Will are alive or dead. But she at least wants to be prepared.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Hell With Them

Whiskey seemed to be Margot’s drink of choice as of late. Will’s brand. She always was a sucker for nostalgia. Not that she missed him at all, but thinking about the past was a habit. Learning from the past was how she survived. Brighter, better memories were how she kept herself relatively sane. 

No, Margot didn’t miss Will, but she thought maybe Alana did. She’d been talking about him a lot lately. Both of them. Just when Margot thought Alana might finally be getting past it, even just a little, there was a rather convincing report from TattleCrime about a sighting somewhere in… some South American country. Or something. It didn’t matter.

‘Murder Husband’ sightings were still being reported almost every week, though it had been months since they disappeared. Died. Whatever. But they were just rumours, hopefuls trying to get some attention in the papers or trying to catch the notice of the Ripper and his ‘partner’.

As if Hannibal would die like that. As if she even cared.

Alana was scared, of course. It made sense. Why wouldn't she be, when Hannibal had threatened her life, and the lives of her wife and child? So when Alana insisted that they go into hiding for a while, Margot didn't argue. She didn't say there was probably nothing to worry about. Alana’s peace of mind mattered.

But her sympathy only went so far; she didn’t have Alana’s attachment to Will, or her fixation on Hannibal. “To hell with them both,” Margot had said, but she knew the thin set of Alana’s mouth meant she was nowhere near willing to forget about them.

And so here Margot was, caught up in memories of a more complicated time; a time that was complicated for all of them. Even back then Margot noticed the bizarre _thing_ going on between Will and Hannibal, the way they were drawn to one another, how fucked up they were about each other. If they were both still alive, there was no way they’d be worrying about Alana or anyone else. They had _years_ of unresolved sexual tension to work out, chances are they were too busy banging their brains out. 

Lord knows Will needed it, the poor guy was always wound up like a spring.

She chuckled to herself as she pictured Will, trembling like a chihuahua, gazing longingly into Hannibal’s eyes. Hannibal probably looked like a Seventies porn star, with that carpet of hair on his chest and the slicked back look he always sported. She tried picturing him with a moustache and snorted. She almost choked on her whiskey as she imagined Will writhing around on the bed like a wanton virgin, or something. It was almost impossible not to; probably because of his damn pretty face. _He’s a total twink_ , she giggled to herself.

She hoped they were at least better in bed with each other than she remembered Will being with her. If you were going to run away with the serial killing love of your life, you might as well enjoy the benefits, right?

Will had seemed so… passive. Not that she was much better that time. She suspected that she wasn’t the only one with someone else on her mind that night. In retrospect, she thought he was probably thinking about Hannibal even then. From what Alana told her, Hannibal was as courteous in bed as anywhere else, but that was about it. He had gone through the motions, spent the appropriate amount of time cuddling and smiling, but as soon as it was over… Alana had said it was like everything just shut off.

How Alana managed to be so oblivious to everything for so long remained a mystery to Margot.

But it was exactly that obliviousness that had Margot making her own plans for the future. Alana was a mess lately, more often than not, and it was difficult to disagree with her about anything, however gently. She _decided_ that they had to be dead, and she was _certain_ that Morgan was just fine, nothing to worry about there. But she also thought that Hannibal was just her mentor, colleague, lover. She thought she had Hannibal secured with lock and key. She thought she had a handle on everything.

Margot knew otherwise.

Alana said Morgan wasn’t displaying any ‘psychopathic’ tendencies. “Nothing to worry about,” she had said. “He’s just a normal toddler.”

As if it was normal for a toddler to giggle cruelly at the bugs he crushed underfoot. Fascinated by how they moved, and how afterward they didn’t move any more.

Maybe it was normal, what did Margot know? She wasn’t the psychiatrist. But Alana. Beautiful, sweet Alana… She wanted to believe in the best of people. Even after everything, she wanted to believe that the darkness they had experienced didn’t taint every part of their lives. Like it was some kind of horrible anomaly that would never touch them again. But Margot knew the darkness would always be a part of their lives. Mason was gone, but his influence would haunt Margot forever, it was as much a part of her as anything. Alana could ignore it as much as she liked, but that wouldn’t make it go away. And Margot didn’t doubt for a second that Morgan had it in him, too. A family trait.

All she could do was guide him, teach him how to focus it in just the right way. To be strong. If Hannibal and Will ever did come back, it probably wouldn’t be for a few years. Margot could hope that it wouldn’t be for _many_ years, enough that she could be sure that Morgan would be ready for them. By then, even Will wouldn’t be as strong as Morgan could be.

The whiskey was beginning to taste bitter.

**Author's Note:**

> [Come flail with me on Tumblr!](http://chronicopheliac.tumblr.com/)


End file.
